


Cookbook

by spacedoutsoap



Category: World War II - Fandom
Genre: Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 03:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacedoutsoap/pseuds/spacedoutsoap
Summary: Phillins Markus Henryson lives with his family who owns a small restaurant in England., and when the war comes around he has no choice but to be drafted straight into the trenches to see the daily horrors of every person whose company he enjoys being killed. With nothing but his determination to return home and a journal from his father when he's captured by a German outpost he fights to survive by becoming their chef.





	Cookbook

I should be proud, I'm going to serve and defend my county. But instead I'm terrified and don't want to budge from the breakfast table. I wanted to stay in this moment forever, enjoying pancakes, Bacon, and a nice glass of fresh squeezed orange juice with my parents, aunt Zess, and my little sister Hanna. I stare at the glass filled with the pulpy juice hoping that if I study it hard enough time will stop. I memorize every detail of the glass, it's one of Mum's printed designs that swirls and curls every which way with yellow circles seemingly placed at random but probably skillfully placed by it's creator who would of carefully planned the distance between each one.  
"My boy! You've barely touched your breakfast!" Aunt Zess pointed out and caused me to be the center of attention at the table.  
"Sorry I'm just-" My father mumbled through a mouthful, cutting me off and dismissing his sister  
"Leave poor Phillin alone the boy's got a long time a head of him! The trucks don't come til late noon." Mum sipped her tea and rolled her eyes amusingly  
"He does quite enjoy the cups, they've been his favorite since he was young." Mum half mocked, must have seen me staring so intently at my glass. I take a drink of the orange juice and attempted to swallow the fear before it could swallow me.  
By the time everyone had finished breakfast and had a prayer, where I silently asked God to not let this be my last family prayer, it was already time for me to go. I managed to keep the water works contained but my sister bawled along with my aunt. My mother had a tear slip down her face and kissed my forehead. My father took me outside alone, for some man to man thing he told the girls.  
"Son, I want you to have this." He shoved a leather notebook into my chest, I tilted my head curiously and opened it, empty. "I want you to write down anything that you feel like needs to be written. Now I know people tell you men shouldn't get emotional-" my father's voice cracked. "But damn it, we're all human." He pulled me into a hug, notebook pressed between us. "Come home safe, my boy. And I'll want to read everything you wrote." My father pulled away and wiped my cheek of the tear I hadn't even noticed before patting my shoulder  
"Good luck, Phillin."

**Author's Note:**

> This is progressively going to get more horrific as we get more into the war.
> 
> You have been warned.


End file.
